"Why so! it's easy enough to see: the wife, knowing what--what I saw, receives me very coldly; and the husband's another oddity. I wished to try to arrange matters; it was no easy task, but still, as it was night, and moonlight--and then, with a shrewd wit one can make anything look all right." "Well?" "Well, when you had gone, I tried first to help Madame de Marsan, who had fainted, as I thought; but the moment I put my salts to her nose, she got up without help, threw the salts into my face, and ran off and locked herself in her room. When I saw that, I said to myself: 'I must go to the husband and throw dust in his eyes.'--I went to the salon, and motioned to Monsieur de Marsan to step out to speak to me; at first he was unwilling to leave the écarté table, but he finally made up his mind to it. I led him into a corner and said: 'Monsieur, you mustn't believe all you see, especially by moonlight, because the moon changes the aspect of things, and you may be misled. The scene they were rehearsing in the thicket was of my invention, and was to be played after the _Barbier_: it was a love scene, and in love scenes the actors sit very near together, on each other's knees sometimes, take hold of hands, embrace--in fact, the more things they do, the more complete the illusion.'--That was rather clever, eh?" "Very clever; and what reply did Monsieur de Marsan make?" "He hardly let me finish; then he said in a very sharp tone: 'Be good enough not to weary me with any more of your nonsense, and never to open your mouth again on that subject!'--And, with that, he turned on his heel. Faith! I confess that I call that very ill-mannered! I try to give a husband the matrimonial prism, and he receives me like a dog in a game of tenpins! you must agree that it was not very pleasant. To cap the climax, a moment later up comes the dairywoman with her two brats, who were purple in the face; they had just been found in an attic; and the impudent peasant began to abuse me, and promised me that, if they burst, her husband would summon me before the magistrate! As if it was my fault! Why, I told them to act the part of Cupid, not to stuff themselves with food!--Faith! when it came to that, I took my hat, and taking advantage of Figaro's cabriolet--he was driving back to Paris--I turned my back on the fête, vowing that I would never again compose anacreontic scenes for peasants." My neighbor left me when he had finished his story. Despite the assurance that I had given him that I harbored no resentment against him on account of that incident, he seemed to me to retain in my presence a constrained, embarrassed air which was not usual with him. He had left me, whereas ordinarily I had hard work to get rid of him. I sought in vain a reason for this behavior, which was not natural in Raymond. However, it mattered little to me what maggot he had in his brain; it surprised me more than it interested me.